Hex Appeal: A Hexy Witch Mystery (Womby's School for Wayward Witches Book 15)

by Sarina Dorie

  Water splashed, and the well shuddered. The steps underneath my feet shook. Thatch hooked an arm around me and pressed me against the wall. Wet muck splattered my pants. I turned my face toward the stone.

  Thatch spooned his body up against mine. His mouth was close to my ear. “I need you to continue walking. Close your eyes, and whatever you do, don’t look down. Don’t look back. Understand?”

  I nodded. Already I could tell things were going from bad to worse.

  I considered the competency pill in my pocket. I thought about Elric’s necklace around my throat. That would indebt me to him. It would only take one more favor for him to own my soul.

  I lifted a foot, about to take another step, but my equilibrium shifted. Thatch pulled me away from the wall. It felt as though he were shoving me toward the creature. I stumbled and staggered, dizzy like that time he’d lowered me from the ceiling on my first day teaching at Womby’s when students had stuck me there.

  I was no longer climbing stairs upward, holding on to a wall, but standing on the wall as though it were my floor. The surface under my feet was uneven and bumpy, unlike the smooth stairs I’d been walking on earlier. Ahead of me was a faint light shining down the tunnel. I staggered and lurched.

  Thatch’s arms were warm around my waist as he kept me upright. He shoved me away from himself, toward the light in front of me. “Keep walking.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at him. His body was perpendicular to mine, defying gravity. It took a moment for me to understand I was the one who defied gravity. I walked on the wall. He still stood on the stairs. The will-o’-the-wisp below had fragmented, the turd serpent frantically bashing itself into one floating bubble of light and then another.

  “Don’t look back.” Thatch grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted my head so I faced the light ahead of me. “Make my job easier just this once, and follow directions. Go toward the light.”

  I would have laughed and told him that was a corny line people told ghosts they wanted to exorcise. Or I would have if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

  I staggered away from him. The jagged bricks made it difficult to walk. I lurched and wobbled on the uneven surface, probably imitating a zombie from a horror film. One of my sneakers had come untied, not helping the situation. I rolled my ankle and fell over. Rocks bit into my hip and thigh, and I whimpered.

  “Toughen up, Clarissa,” Thatch said in his typically encouraging manner.

  I rolled onto my knees, stifling another cry as the jagged edge of rocks tore into my hands and raked into my flesh. I pushed myself up toward the entrance. My ankle throbbed. I tried to numb the pain, but walking stole my concentration. Lights flashed from behind me, reflecting on the glistening walls. Water splashed.

  “Keep walking,” Thatch grunted.

  Fresh air greeted my nose. I was closer to the entrance. I compensated for the pain in my ankle by favoring the other leg, but my gait was unnatural. I fell onto my knees again and had to crawl. Gravity shifted and swayed. I clung to the rocks now.

  From the fluctuations in the magic, I suspected Thatch was either losing his concentration or low on his reserve of energy. I wanted to help him, but I didn’t know how. I closed my eyes and crawled. Stones dug through my jeans into my legs. My footing skidded on slippery stone. Gravity lurched, and I couldn’t tell which way was up. I slid backward.

  Gravity had returned.

  I screamed, floundering for purchase on the rocks. Up was up once again. My hands found a ledge that stuck out, and I clung to it. One of my feet found a rock to perch on.

  Only a foot above me I spotted the ledge to the well. I was so close I could taste the fresh air and safety. I tried to hoist myself higher, to dig my shoes into the crevices between stones, but my ankle flared with pain from where I’d rolled on it. My foot slipped. My loose shoe liberated itself of a foot. My sneaker fell away.

  Thatch cursed below. His voice echoed, sounding far off. Water splashed. White light flared. From the amount of strobe lights he was producing, all we needed was some disco music, and it would be a party.

  My arm muscles shook with fatigue. I would have given anything for some acrobatic magic about then. Or anything useful. I ran through a mental list of my skills: juggling, sleight of hand, sex magic, necromancy, cleaning spells, self-awareness, remote viewing, pretty art, vagina rainbows, and making really good cookies. None of this was much help at the moment. If I got out of this alive, I had to learn some kind of practical magic for getting out of septic tanks belonging to evil Fae.

  A loud crack from below and the steadiness of the blue light signaled some kind of change. Gravity shifted again. Still holding on to the ledge, I slowly face-planted into the new downward direction, which happened to be an uneven floor. I crawled on my hands and knees. My ankle throbbed. The moment I fell out of the tunnel, my equilibrium changed again, and I found myself dropping into a roll on a filthy stone floor.

  I tried not to think too much about what those putrid puddles were that I’d just rolled in.

  A moment later, Thatch levitated out of the well, dropping my sneaker onto the ground. The blue light of his wand illuminated his crabby expression. For all his fighting, he didn’t look like he had a speck of dirt on him. His hair still looked nice.

  Some people had all the magic.

  He landed lightly next to me and held out a hand to help me up. Rivulets of blood trailed down his fingers onto mine.

  I stared transfixed at the crimson droplets. “Is that from the monster?”

  His hand shook, and he released me. “No, it’s what I did to myself to overpower it.” Red smears covered both our hands.

  Water churned in the well. Thatch wrenched me farther from the hole. A giant brown head lifted from the well. The slit of a mouth opened, toxic gases wafting toward us.

  “For Merlin’s sake, just die already,” Thatch said.

  He waved his wand at the creature. His light was faint. It was no surprise his magic glanced off the septic serpent and faded away.

  Thatch shoved me behind him. “I’m sorry.” He fumbled for my wrist, his eyes on the monster.

  “Sorry for what?” I asked, fearing he was about to send me away and die here.

  I wouldn’t allow that. I didn’t want Baba Nata’s prophecy to come true. I couldn’t allow it to come true.

  Instead, he did something unexpected.

  His grip tightened like a vise, cutting off circulation to my hand. His fingers dug into my flesh. I gasped at the unexpected pain. Instinct made me flinch back, but he held me in place.

  It occurred to me then what he was apologizing for. He was using his affinity. He was using me for pain magic.

  He spoke quietly, projecting a spell at the serpent. Brilliant light flashed, and I turned away.

  I closed my eyes and imagined the pain wicking out of my body and into his fingers, up his arm, and into his core. I numbed the pain and allowed him to use it. He wasn’t doing this because he didn’t care. It was because he was practical, and it was the only option.

  I told myself I didn’t blame him for using me, even if he’d promised he wouldn’t do it again without my permission. He was clever; he’d never promised me with the binding of a magic oath.

  The pain intensified, and it became more difficult to anesthetize. Lightning shot up my arm. I ground my teeth and forced myself not to scream. Lights flashed, and rocks crumbled around us, but I ignored the world around me.

  My knees went weak, and I fell to the ground. Thatch readjusted his grip on my upper arm. My heart drummed frantically in my ears, drowning out the hisses and shrieks of the creature. Light flashed behind my eyes—or maybe it was outside my eyes. Thatch recited a spell in a calm monotone. His fingers were like straws, sucking away my pain, my own magic, my own affinity. Undulating waves of pain and then pleasure coursed through my body, into my arm, and out of it. For brief flashes, I was aware of his body digesting my magic and turning it into
his.

  A lance of fire tore through my bicep and radiated into my bone. The pressure was too great. I gasped for breath. Nausea swept over me. I felt as though I were falling down the well again. I blinked, stars dancing before my eyes.

  Thatch loomed over me as I kneeled next to him. I had placed a hand on the slick ground, trying to keep myself from falling over. He clenched his wand between his teeth and held me up by my arm. All strength had left me.

  My head lolled toward the well. The monster easily dodged away from the glow of the magic he sent at it. Thatch wasn’t even looking at the monster. He was too distracted to vanquish it. All he could feel was the joy of pain.

  I tried to stand up, but my body wouldn’t let me. Or maybe Thatch wouldn’t let me. His fingers squeezed into my arms. The pain overwhelmed me. I tried to make my mouth work, but my throat went dry.

  It felt like he was breaking my bones. My voice came out incoherent and guttural. I was a wounded animal. He was the predator about to devour the prey.

  The light from his wand was dim, but close enough to his face it showed off the black pupils taking over his eyes. Staring into them was like looking into a black hole. His lips curled upward into a smile. He looked at me but didn’t see me.

  “Stop,” I said. With that word, my affinity flared inside me. I shot lightning up my torso, over my shoulders, and down into my arms where he gripped me.

  He released me and staggered back. I fell onto my butt and pitched sideways. He drew away, panting.

  The monster lifted itself again, drawing back like a snake about to strike. Probably if Thatch had shot lightning at the creature, it would be dead. He leaned against the wall, clawing at it as though he were in pain. He probably was from being cut off from his supply of fuel so abruptly.

  I grasped for the magic inside me. There wasn’t much. Not that there were many spells I thought might defeat a giant poop golem.

  Then again, there was one, but it was a long shot.

  I grabbed Thatch’s ankle. It was all I could reach from my position on the ground. Instinctively, I drew in his magic where my fingers met his flesh. He sucked in a lungful of stagnant air and choked. This was just like regulating the electricity from an outlet, only instead of moderating the incoming speed, I was pulling it into myself.

  I was draining him. Fortunately, he’d just generated plenty of magic only moments before.

  I aimed a hand at the monster, the other on Thatch’s leg just above his sock.

  Using the full force of his Red affinity, I projected lightning out of myself. At the same time, I called forth the Amni Plandai cleaning spell Josie had taught me years before. The overpowering scent of lemon filled the air. Yellow foam shot out of my fingertips combined with golden arcs of lightning.

  The spell struck the creature with full force, exploding it away from us. A thump and giant splash came from the tunnel of the septic tank, followed by smaller splashes.

  I had saved us!

  Vega had always looked down on me for that paltry spell. I couldn’t wait to tell her cleaning had saved my life.

  I felt far less grimy. The smelly puddle I’d fallen into was gone too.

  Thatch’s voice was rough and gravelly. “Walk away from me.”

  I turned toward the passage, ignoring the pain as I lifted myself. I barely managed to make it a few steps before dizziness crashed over me. The pain in my arm was too much. I fell to my knees again and threw up onto the stones. Vomit splattered into my hair. So much for being clean.

  Thatch didn’t hold my hair back or pat my shoulder like a normal person would have. His face was stony as he watched. “Get up. I can’t carry you.”

  I pushed myself to my feet. “I didn’t ask you to.” I staggered, one hand on the wall for support.

  I placed one foot in front of the other. It took all my concentration. Now that the ordeal was over, my muscles ached, and over a dozen places in my arms and legs throbbed from cuts and scratches. I used both hands against the wall to hold myself upright. New pain flared up in my right arm. I couldn’t lean on it. The throbbing in my ankle and arm grew as I walked. Even when I didn’t move my arm or lean on it, the bone stabbed me with pain.

  Ahead of me a door creaked open. Golden light spilled into the grimy tunnel. Thatch stood at the doorway. I hadn’t noticed him pass me.

  From his sour expression, he looked like he was about to close the door on me. I tried to move faster and stumbled through the door into an empty corridor so dusty and grimy it looked as though it had been forgotten for a thousand years. One end of the hall ended in rubble, blocking what might have been an exit. Thatch pointed to a sconce on the wall, and it flared to life. After the dimness in the bowels of the septic tunnel, this passage was warm and cheery.

  “Are we in the Raven Queen’s castle? Do they know we’re here?” I asked.

  Thatch quietly closed the door. “We’re below it, just outside the boundaries of her wards. It isn’t exactly where I expected we’d arrive, but I’ll wager we are safe to rest here for a moment.” He leaned a hand against a wall, appearing to need a rest as much as I did.

  A wooden bench, like one of the ones from the school grounds, rested underneath a sconce. I staggered forward and plopped onto it. Sort of. I missed and flailed. A cushion of air caught me. Thatch motioned with his wand at me, and the air deposited me onto the seat.

  He strode past me and sat on the other end of the bench. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. The blood was gone from his arm. His raven locks were perfect.

  I closed my eyes, fatigue tugging my body. More than anything, I would have liked to fall asleep, but my arm hurt too much. Every time I breathed and my chest nudged it, new pulses of fire radiated from the bone. If I kept my breath shallow and tried not to move, I almost didn’t feel it. But then I felt the pain in my ankle and in my knees. And everything else. I was too exhausted to numb it.

  “You have a fracture in your arm,” Thatch said.

  “Lucky me. Nurse Hilda’s specialty.”

  He chuckled, the sound reminding me of dark syrup. “Give me your arm.”

  My eyes shot open. I shrank back, nearly falling off the bench. I righted myself without his help.

  He sighed. “I deserve that.”

  His eyes weren’t normal yet.

  Part of me wanted to apologize for flinching away, for reacting to him as though he were a monster. Another part of me wanted to scream at him for breaking his word.

  “You said you would never use pain magic to hurt me,” I heard myself saying. My voice sounded wooden. Pain made my brain foggy.

  He lifted his chin. “Indeed. This is why one should never make promises one can’t keep.”

  He unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed the fabric upward. He waved his wand over the blistered lacerations in his own flesh that I suspected he’d made with his wand. The open wounds sealed into pink lines. His hands shook. He was visibly winded.

  “I had a choice,” he said. “I could have used weaker magic, which might have resulted in one or both of us dying. Or I could have saved your life with my affinity and hoped I was able to stop taking magic from you afterward. I knew it wouldn’t be without consequence.”

  That sounded like Thatch. Even in a life-and-death situation he was a pragmatist.

  “There is a reason pain magic and blood magic are forbidden.” He closed his eyes again. “It changes a person. Even a careful Witchkin can become a slave to the Red affinity. It’s worse for an ice Elementia or a tree Plandai who has no experience or training and is drawn into the allure of dark magic. One will do anything for more. That’s why our affinities are so dangerous. You now have firsthand knowledge of what it’s like to be married to an addict. You’re welcome.”

  The gravity of his words sank into me.

  “You aren’t a junkie. Using pain magic once or twice doesn’t make you a monster. I understand; you didn’t have any other choice.” I said the wor
ds because I knew they were the right thing to say. Maybe saying them would make me believe them.

  He raised an eyebrow. “True. Once wouldn’t. Twice might be a coincidence. Three times starts to become a habit. The fourth time, the fifth time, the twenty-fourth time, that’s when people start to notice. You really know nothing about me or my past. You trust people too readily. Myself included.” One side of his mouth lifted into a bitter smile. “There’s an irony to this, of course. The teacher showing the pupil what not to do. The master unable to control his own powers.”

  I leaned my head against the wall, trying not to jostle any bones that might protest against movement. “What are you saying? You’ve been teaching me to control my affinity so I don’t become addicted?”

  “That sums it up.”

  “What would happen to me if I did become an addict? Would I be a succubus? Like my biological mother?”

  He stared off toward the darkness, his face a mask. “Alouette Loraline was never a succubus. She never lost control. Not in that fashion anyway.”

  He’d always refuted that was what I was, what my mother had been, when anyone brought it up. I’d always thought he’d been too quick to dismiss the question, shame painting a gloomy shadow across his visage, but now I suspected another reason as to why he reacted with such shame. It wasn’t my own potential dishonor he’d been quick to brush away, but his own.

  “Is that what you are? A pain succubus?”

  His hand slid off his thigh and plopped onto the bench. “No. I’m more like an energy vampire. Like Elric when he’s depleted. My mother was the succubus. A muse of nightmares and pleasures.”

  It sounded like she would have been at home in the Raven Court. No wonder the Raven Queen would have wanted to take Thatch and his sisters in.

  He turned his hand over, palm up as if inviting me to hold it. Part of me wanted to, but I couldn’t. I could still feel those fingers on my arm, digging in and breaking my bones.

  “Your mother recognized what I was and taught me how to control my powers,” Thatch said. “When my affinity overpowered me, she was there to mentor me and help me. She was stronger than me. Or perhaps just resistant to my personal flavor of magic. Pain wasn’t her craving and weakness in the same way it was mine. She was strong enough that she could pull me out of the dark well inside me.”